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My Own Bright
I’m a widower, to this empty room.
With windows appearing black.
A doorway that opens to reveal gloom.
A mirror that begs to throw the hate back.
Reaching toward the eye so that I may escape this storm,
rewarded with a downward thrust back into a river of my fear.
Gushing, rushing, hushing, crushing currents pulling me under water, most lukewarm.
A sickness that leaves me with only one cure.
But, as I said, I am a widower.
As up has down, darkness has light.
Pain forgotten, however, not a blur,
Love has given me, my own bright.

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However, as time progressed, I left that prison they call a "middle school." The new people made me feel welcome. Like I was a person, instead of an animal. My family was supportive of me, I met new people who may not be extremely close friends, but they're nice to me, and I met a wonderful girl who I care for very much. The love and accepting nature of all of these people helped me through it all.
They're all extremely wonderful people and their love is what helped me learn to love myself. So now I have the strength to move on with my life and keep going. So this poem that I wrote is basically a way to tell them what I went through, and to thank them for everything.